


Amarillo

by J Millington (valoise)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-01
Updated: 2003-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-07 18:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valoise/pseuds/J%20Millington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the X-Files Lyric Wheel, this is a short post-series story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amarillo

Amarillo

by J. Millington

 

Pairings: Mulder/Skinner Rating: PG13  
Warnings: This story contains m/m relationship (slash).   
November, 2003

 

Note: This story was written for the Poetry Lyric Wheel.  
Poem provided by Ursula.

****  
He rememberd Amarillo.

He remembered every detail of the case they had been working: each bit of forensic evidence, the pitiful confession of a troubled soul, the way the hair on the nape of Scully's neck curled when she had it pulled back at the motel. He remembered the way the wind had seemed to blow constantly across the barren landscape coating everything with a fine layer of dust.

He picked up a handful of dirt and let it dribble through his fingers. It fell straight down; the air was still this afternoon but a fierce wind was coming, and he hoped that mankind would be able to live it through.

Mulder sat in the shade under the bridge and gave another long pull of his water bottle. Almost empty. No matter. Time was almost up.

He leaned his head back and centered himself, focusing just enough. Gibson's consciousness met his and flickered in and out giving Mulder the impression of Black Hawks and Hummers and infantry in formation. At least they were finally coming, no way to know if they would be too late.

No way to know, really, just what they might be too late for.

Mulder took a deep breath and stood, shouldering his pack he strode off once again. Maybe help would get there in time and maybe it wouldn't. In any case Mulder knew where he needed to go and when he needed to get there. Something was going to happen and he felt it drawing him.

He passed the sign, Amarillo 5 miles. He and Scully had started this journey in the southwest and never strayed far. Events seemed to be centered here. New Mexico, Texas. He laughed to himself. Those 'Land of Enchantment' and 'Texas, It's a Whole Other County' tourist campaigns seemed to play well with the most foreign of foreigners. But in the case of the coming invasion, these foreigners weren't coming to see the scenery, they were coming to dominate it and the rest  
of the planet as well.

He could feel it in his bones. And since Gibson Praise had joined them, he could see it with his mind as well. When they joined up with Gibson once again none of them had been prepared for the new awakening of Mulder's latent talent. The link between Mulder and the young man had surprised them both and scared them both shitless. Mulder's talent was strong and so much different than it's earlier manifestation.

Mulder found that this time he could turn the ability on and turn it off at will, only Gibson could block him out completely. Gibson had always been resigned to know more than he wanted about everyone but with Mulder's help he could now block out unwanted input. Together they had found that they could eavesdrop unseen and unnoticed on the approaching forces. Gibson had assured him that their intrusions to humans went unnoticed, but Mulder decided to play it safe and tap in as seldom as necessary.

Besides the young man he'd been working with there only three people whose mental presence he really craved. The first was now a blank to him, buried in an unmarked grave by the banks of the Washita River, Scully's absence was like a scar on his soul.

The second presence he would touch from time to time as a talisman. A comfort. Even though there were separated by a couple thousand miles, Mulder found he could brush across the presence of William's childish mind and find solace in his simple thoughts. There lie his hope and the hope of the world. That the children could live free and human.

The third mind whose presence he craved he didn't dare contact. Skinner had excellent control but Mulder couldn't risk it. If he should cause his lover to react, to show inappropriate emotion at the wrong time in front of the wrong people it could spell disaster.

Skinner's position was too precarious. One wrong move might attract deadly attention.

The distant rumble of a truck startled him and Mulder jumped down into a gully beside the road, hoping for enough cover. A pickup appeared around the corner and passed by, not slowing down. Probably hadn't seen him.

As they traveled Mulder and Gibson found that they could tap into the aliens at any time, anywhere; it hadn't really mattered where they were. Scully would watch over them, gun in hand as they made contact.

The hardest part for them was finding the best way to get the information back to Skinner and those who could use it. They had tried to send it securely but nothing was sure. Sometimes their information had been passed by indirect methods but the most sensitive and most crucial bits had to be delivered in person.

The couriered information had passed without compromise but not without price. They had found that out when John Doggett died. He had been filling the gas tank of his car when two black Suburbans flanked his vehicle. In the struggle and gunfire there had been a small explosion, then a huge fireball as first the gas pumps and then the underground storage tanks had been ignited.

At least he had died before they could interrogate him. Monica had stayed alive long enough to make it back and tell them her story. There hadn't been time to grieve for them. There was never enough time to do justice to the memory of the dead. All they could do was move along and fight on.

Now he was alone. The crucial weakness of the enemy and best hope for mankind had had to be delivered in person. With Doggett and Reyes and Scully gone there was no left to trust. Law enforcement officers had Mulder's face and fingerprints; he was a wanted man. It was all up to Gibson.

A disturbance on the horizon caught Mulder's eye and squinted trying to make out what it was. He felt a wave a disorientation wash over him. He shook his head and found that he had dropped to his knees. This was it. The sound of helicopters, faint but getting nearer, filled the air but the sound of his approaching reinforcements was driven out by an indescribable fury. The enemy had heard as well.

Mulder made a mental grab; reaching out to Gibson he shouted, "Now!" and hurled himslef into the threatening storm. The world swirled into chaos around him, into something beyond comprehension, into blackness.

******

Steadying awareness of nothing, of everything. In and out, one breath after another.

Mulder found that the simple act of breathing anchored him. He reached out for Gibson and sensed the young man's sleeping dreams. He reached out for William and got an impression of puppies and sunshine.

He blinked and realized that his eyes had been closed. He drew another breath and realized that he was stretched out in a bed. Another breath and realized that he was not alone.

Strong arms enfolded him and held him close. He tilted his head and caught sight of Skinner's tear-stained face. Without a word Mulder reached out and joined him at last enfolding his lover in the warmth of his mind.

The End

 

from Ursula:  
Rainer Rilke Sense of Something Coming

I am like a flag in the center of open space.   
I sense ahead the wind which is coming, and must live   
it through.   
while the things of the world still do not move:   
the doors still close softly, and the chimneys are full  
of silence,   
the windows do not rattle yet, and the dust still lies down.

I already know the storm, and I am troubled as the sea.   
I leap out, and fall back,   
and throw myself out, and am absolutely alone   
in the great storm.


End file.
